


Hall of Fame

by Diddle_Riddle



Series: Scars to your Beautiful [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Canon-Typical Violence, Edward's first arrival at Arkham, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Little Riddler in the middle of the Monsters, Meeting the big boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-02-10 19:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18666649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diddle_Riddle/pseuds/Diddle_Riddle
Summary: "You played a dangerous game, and you lost. Now you are going to see everything backfiring on you. Badly. While you could have avoided it."Edward shrugged his shoulders."What do you think?", he argued, a mild defeatist tone showing. "Whatever they intend to do to me, they can't try anything I already lived in worse.""... You really believe that? Because this is Arkham asylum and the monsters inside we are talking about here. So I'm afraid you'll have to think again."





	Hall of Fame

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of a series, but each part can be read as a stand-alone, the episodes are made to be autonomous and independent enough.  
> However if you want to read everything, I strongly recommend you follow the parts in numerical order, since there is a chronological and logical progression in the story, following Edward's evolution through the years at different key moments of his life.
> 
> Title for this episode is from 'Hall of Fame' by The Script, because even though I don't like everything about this song (I don't even like the voice itself much), it contains those lyrics:  
> "The world's gonna know your name,  
> 'Cause you burn with the brightest flame.  
> And the world's gonna your name,  
> And you'll be on the walls of the hall of fame."  
> And no doubt, it suits Eddie putting on the Riddler persona and getting his first impressions on Arkham asylum, plus meeting some of its most emblematic residents.  
> Enjoy! :)

"I warned you.", Batman said in a threatening tone as he held his arm between the shoulder and the elbow, his iron grip increasing his general menacing allure and cold glare.

Edward looked up to him with pride, shutting his best the fear he couldn't quite completely erase from his organism.

Batman indeed warned him. Over the previous weeks, he told him to _get a life_ , to _stop_ sneaking around at the Gotham rogues' schemes and stop showing his nose at every crime scene just to... collect informations and understand how the underworld worked in the city. He asked him, in a way that suffered no protestation, to _scrap it_ and find another activity to 'distract himself'.

As if he was doing this for distraction. As if this game he tried to properly enter in was nothing more than a hobby, instead of becoming his new _reason to live_.

How could Batman expect him to stop? How could he had not seen coming the day Ed will grow tired of just watching and being an observer to step himself _on the stage_? Truth be told, Edward was convinced the Bat always predicted it. That a part of the vigilante just hoped they won't end up in this precise situation, with him arrested after the Dynamic Duo solved his first ever trap, a well-designed scheme of puzzles and riddles that could have outsmarted them if... a few things happened differently.

But Edward wasn't mad his plan has been foiled, he wasn't desperate either. He just felt... cocky.

He had done it in the end. He stepped on the stage, and he appeared for the first time with a name.

So okay, not everything went as planned, and Batman and Robin cut short his great debut. But... he had done it nonetheless. He was not a nobody anymore. Now he _entered_ in the...

"You made a big mistake.", Batman lectured him again, not loosening his hold on his arm. "And I can't cover for you."

"Why would you?!", Eddie retorted, unimpressed. "I trapped you and your bird in an explosive labyrinth, why would you want to make me a favour now?!"

Batman gritted his teeth, and shared a look with Robin, who has been strangely quiet since they thwarted the trap and properly arrested him.

"Do you have any idea of what is Arkham?", Batman asked again, leaning forward to him.

"... Sure.", he answered, slightly more uncomfortable but trying not to let it show. "I watch the news.", he added, trying to brush off the apprehension and playing cool, but he didn't manage to fully remove the worry from his tone.

A deafening silence settled between the three of them, and despite his need to be always talking, Edward shivered and found himself not able to formulate a coherent thought at the moment. He practiced in front of his mirror, like an actor, to brace himself for his encounter with Batman and Robin in this particular situation. Now he was on the spot however, not controlling anything anymore after they ruined his puzzle, he realized it was much _harder_ to keep his composure in real than he thought it will be.

"Batman.", Robin called sternly. "We cannot..."

"He is the one who wanted to play tough.", the Bat immediately denied, then glared back at Ed, his grip tightening to the point it will leave bruises, and Edward tried his best to still look provocant in spite of the urge to _disappear_  caused out of reflex by the harsh glance. "You did that to yourself.", the Bat accused him. "I've been clear and patient enough with you, it's not my fault you chose not to listen and do what you want."

"You haven't been 'patient'!", Eddie protested right away, frustration being always even easier for him to feel than fear. "All you did has been to tell me to 'get out' whenever you saw me, while you don't even know me!"

"I know enough.", he replied coldly. "And today you proved me I was right to have some prejudices about you."

"Ever thought you might be at the _origin_ of this?!", the teenager retorted vividly. "That maybe if instead of telling to fuck off just because I am curious, you would have..."

"I am not having it.", Batman cut severely. "Whatever imaginary offense you convinced yourself I did to you, you are _wrong_ about it and even if you were not, it _doesn't_ justify what you did today. You are the only responsible for your actions, to designate a fictional culprit who supposedly 'made you' do something is an immature, mediocre defense and I wasted enough of my time with you not to listen an other word of it."

Then he let go of him, and despite himself Edward winced a little when blood started to circulate again in his sore left arm, then massaged he gripped spot with his right hand. It probably started to bruise beneath his sleeve.

"Tell Gordon we cleaned up the place.", Batman ordered to his sidekick. "And ask him to deal with this one, I lost enough time on his case."

"I have a _name_!", Ed protested, and Batman glared again at him.

"Good for you.", he jeered dismissively. "I hope you enjoyed your performance, 'Riddler', because you won't survive a night at Arkham asylum, so I'm afraid your failed attempt at a celebrity is going to be short-lived."

Then he walked away, fired of his grapple hook, and soon he was out of the warehouse.

"... I'm sorry.", Robin said after a long silence, and Edward arched a quizzical eyebrow.

"For what?"

"What's about to come.", the taller teenager answered, and he seemed genuinely concerned rather than mocking. "Do you even..."

He cursed under his breath, then looked back at him with a serious expression, and went on, appalled:

"Do you have even the _beginning_ of an idea of what's going to happen to a kid like you in prison?!"

Edward wished he didn't back off a bit, way more scared by the concern -it was concern, he had no doubt anymore- and the... terror, radiating from Robin than he had been by Batman's threats.

"I... I wanted to do something.", he defended, trying to gather his thoughts and sound more assured than he felt.

It was not a frank success, but he pursued regardless:

"I want people to look at me."

"And this is all you found?", Dick asked again, a sincere sadness showing in his expression. "Rob money account to design a labyrinth and trap us into playing a game with you that could have ended with damages if we didn't intervene?!"

Edward looked away. It was not his fault, he reflected. It was the only way people will start to take him seriously. So okay he screwed up and things didn't end as planned, but at least he... began in the network. He needed a starting point, and after all there was a high level of chances the first time went sour, he was aware of it before he began to plan the scheme, he was convinced of it as he got involved into it, and even when he judged everything was perfect, in working order and he could release his plan for the Dynamic Duo to solve his enigmas, he _knew_ things couldn't end up well for him.

Because when had _anything_ ever ended well for him, over fifteen, almost sixteen years of life anyway?

"Just... if you behave correctly in Arkham.", Robin tried again after he called their cop acolyte. "You'll may obtain a certificate before next month and they'll release you without further ceremony. I'm not going to pretend, things aren't... easy, down there, but if you make an effort not to put yourself in delicate situations and if you don't do infringements to the rules, they'll let you go and then you won't have to keep going that way."

"You just lied to me, birdie.", he sneered right away. "You and your boss are convinced I'm gonna be dead by the morning, but your conclusion is that I have to watch my tongue to go out without getting hurt?!"

"... I just wanted not to be apocalyptic.", he tempted to justify, clearly sorry about the way things were turning and trying to convince himself he did his best to avoid ending up in that situation.

What an idiot.

"And Batman is not my boss.", he concluded darkly.

"Daddy issues?", Ed jested.

"You're one to talk.", the sidekick replied. "You reek of these."

Edward glared at him. It wasn't even true. Sure he was being oblivious there, but... he had  _more_ than just issues coming from his father. Instead he had a long list of _other_ kinds of traumas, linked to various situations and different persons as well.

Robin sighed.

"Just a few divergences of opinions we have since I'm not a child anymore.", he offered as an explanation, reckoning it wasn't much of a secret. "But you..."

The older teenager looked down to him with a sincere worry.

"You played a dangerous game, and you lost. Now you are going to see everything backfiring on you. Badly. While you could have avoided it."

Edward shrugged his shoulders.

"What do you think?", he argued, a mild defeatist tone showing. "Whatever they intend to do to me, they can't try anything I already lived in worse."

"... You really believe that? Because this is _Arkham asylum_ and the _monsters_ inside we are talking about here. So I'm afraid you'll have to think again."

 

"How old are you?"

"... Twenty-five."

The policeman raised an eyebrow.

"Is this what you plan to tell at Arkham?", he guessed, but his tone wasn't mocking or judging like Edward expected it would be. "You realize no one is going to believe that, right?"

On the contrary, he acted just like Robin, he seemed... worried. Concerned, even.

Edward shifted on the passenger seat of the police car.

"I am adult.", he retorted, more embarrassed than he should feel.

"That won't go either.", James Gordon countered. "No one is going to fall for this lie."

Edward looked at the dashboard, failing to figure how he could argue convincingly.

"My age doesn't mean anything.", he elected to say later as the cop drove him across the city. "There is no age to do something or to be someone."

"I'm afraid I'll have to disagree.", the older one opposed with a surprisingly delicate intonation. "Not about the fact teenagers can do something, of course. But for your own _safety_. You shouldn't play with Batman and his... costumed acolytes when you have no objective reason to do so. All you'll win from this is ruin a future you can have. Remember you have no reason to keep doing that, and you _still_ have the choice to change."

Edward shook his head, not seeing a proper way to respond.

Your daughter is Batgirl, he thought vehemently but didn't voice out loud. Start dealing with _that_ before accusing others to be too young to play with the big black bat.

Even if well, both Batgirl and Robin were older than him and Barbara was a young adult when she started, while Dick had been ten years old when he first put on the uniform, so neither of them were in Edward's configuration. And for the identities, of course he still pondered over a few other possibilities so he was not 100% sure about who are the civilians beneath the masks. But let's say he was good enough at playing detective, so even if the deduction itself was quite recent, it made more and more sense to keep thinking of it as a  _reality_. Many elements matched now he investigated on that lead.

"I often see you on the news.", Ed spoke afterwards, feeling a strange, sick sense of _confidence_ to be conscious he knew more than the other occupant of the car about his own child. "You met all of the Rogues Gallery members!"

"I do my job.", Jim simply responded. "And yes, sometimes it involves dealing with a... certain type of criminals."

"That's very cool.", Eddie noted. "You met Scarecrow and Poison Ivy! How are they in real?"

Gordon seemed utterly confused, and gave him a quick, worried glance.

"Please don't tell me those are your role models."

"Hu, not really.", he admitted. "But their researches are fascinating, they are talented scientists and very smart persons. That's something I value more than the rest."

"They are murderers and psychopaths who kill, torture and use people as test subjects before releasing their toxins in the city, which cause a maximum of pain and devastation every time."

"I never said they are cinnamon rolls. Just that they are _smart_."

And they have never been my role model, he completed internally. My role model was Batman until I realized I could never impress him, could never reach out to him or be somebody to him.

Until I realized the only way I'll get his attention is by becoming his enemy, since he never believed in me otherwise and never deemed I could be his ally.

"You have a family?", Gordon asked later, when they were leaving the town to reach the isolated spot where the asylum stood.

This time Edward laughed.

"Do I really look like someone who comes from a loving home?"

The redheaded policeman lowered his gaze, and Ed instantly abhorred the reaction. What rights this man thinks he has to pity him?! He didn't want of his pity, or of anyone's. He wanted people to _notice_ him, to praise how smart he is, to have people _looking up_ to him, to see _attention_ directed at him.

But not _that_ kind of attention!

"Nobody forced me.", he told him consequently, crossing his arms on his chest. "I take my decisions on my own, and I don't regret a thing. Plus I am not a child."

"... Your decisions are dangerous for yourself and others. You may don't regret it now, you risk to look back at this moment in not long and wish you never tried to defy Batman. And as long as you are not eighteen, what you clearly are not, you are technically a child."

From this moment, Edward decided he hated this man.

So he added him on his list, judging he won't pass an occasion to make his life a living Hell whenever he had the chance to. He was an ally of Batman, after all. He deserved to suffer just like him, to be proved he should have shown _faith_ in him when he asked for it from the bats, when he was ready to become their friend rather than a foe.

Now, everyone needed to pay.

For everything.

______

 

"So it's your first time at Arkham?", the psychiatrist asked showing way too much enthusiasm. "This is cool.", she added with a bright smile, and Ed blinked at the very unexpected reaction. "It's my first day too!", she informed him. "Well, I officially started yersterday, but it's my first full day of service here!"

"Congratulations?", he commented, not seeing anything else to propose, and she smiled back.

"Thanks. I'm the doctor Quinzel. Harleen Quinzel. What's your name?"

"Edward Nygma."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

She looked him over, as a result of what she stated:

"No. You're younger."

"... Twenty-one.", he proposed, trying to sound confident. "But I'll turn twenty-two in not long, so..."

Harleen shook her head no once again.

"You are a teenager.", she corrected. "This is painfully obvious, so don't try to make yourself look older. It doesn't work."

"... If I was a minor, a few rules would apply differently for me than for the other inmates.", he reminded her instead of arguing longer about being an adult (apparently Gordon was right, no one believed that). "So if you register me as under eighteen years old, you'll have to deal with a few complications and a special care for me. While if you write down I'm in my early twenties, I'll just appear to be 'a bit young', but without lawful complications for the asylum."

She watched him more closely, her joyful facial expression replaced by what seemed to be an actual _interest_.

"You seem to be smart.", she complimented.

"Smarter than you can imagine.", he retorted, moving a little toward her, but instead of taking it as an affront, that just made her laugh.

"I'll go for that, Edward. You know what we'll do?", she asked then, as if they were accomplices of some sort. "I'm gonna write you are twenty, and if you rehabilitate, what is the objective, you'll change it back to your real age when you leave the asylum. And if you choose... the other way, and come back here after a scheme, you'll stay registered as being twenty until you _actually_ reach twenty, so in... six years? Five?"

"Four and a few weeks.", he revealed, and she smiled in return.

"But the point is to make you leave by the front door, with your certificate declaring you are sane.", she assured in a tranquil manner. "I won't take more of your time. Usually, the psychological follow-up for the new inmates starts right after they arrive, but the staff is kinda... overworked lately. We are only two psychiatrits working, and not many guards. After the Joker's last plan made quite a number of victims in the establishment, it became difficult to replace the staff, both security agents and doctors. It's insane, it's like no one wants to work at Arkham anymore!"

"... I can't see anything 'insane' in that."

What made her laugh again, as if they were friends rather than a psychiatrist talking to a freshly arrested teenager, and this familiarity made Edward highly uncomfortable.

"All of this to say.", Harleen concluded. "That you won't be taken much care of right now. So I'll just walk you to your cell, and if you have a medical appointment over the next week that means we managed to take advance with our schedules, what seems... improbable with the way things are. But don't worry.", she ended in a fake reassuring tone. "We're all here to help."

"... You are a bad liar.", Edward couldn't help but point out in response to the last sentence.

The doctor Quinzel didn't take offense though, and rather directed him to a cell after he changed into the uniform of the Arkham inmates for the first time.

_____________

 

"You are the Scarecrow!"

Jonathan Crane raised a skeptical glance to whoever dared to bother him during his reading.

And he was utterly surprised to meet a very young face and a shining light green gaze staring excitedly at him. A little redhead in the asylum's suit.

"... When did they let children in at Arkham?"

"I am not a child!", he defended right away. "And I love your works. I found your theories on fear fascinating and your opinions on the structural mechanism of the brain, about how to influence a few regions by activating its sensors in order to arrive at an osmosis of reactions so very interesting, I would love to know more about the process behind the  _control_  you try to create with your toxin and the intented effect it has on subjects!"

The professor blinked, visibly not getting what to do with the informations, and Edward felt the thrill rising in his organism.

"You are a genius!", he completed. "And I don't think that of many people, given how superior my intellect and brainpower are."

"... Who are you?"

"I'm the Riddler. My name is Edward Nygma.", he announced proudly, extending an arm in front of him, and Jonathan considered his fingers a short moment, then, deciding it couldn't hurt to make a minimum of efforts, he shook his hand.

"Jonathan Crane. You seem to know me already."

"Oh, I do!"

Edward sat on the bunk next to him in the cramped cell they'll have to share, without having been invited to join of course, and Jon hissed in disapproval.

No one had the right to come that close without _permission_.

"I read everything about your theories, your theses and your researches!", the ginger pursued, clearly not minding the murderous glare his eldest addressed him. "The works of yours that are public, at least. And I loved _everything_ , the detail of your theories and the relevance of your experiments are just as impressive as the destructive potential of your actions and the horrific consequences of your fear toxin."

"... That's nice of you?", he tried, at a loss.

On one hand he was very annoyed by the proximity and the rapidity of this teen's speech, but on the other hand the kid just... praised him, and Jonathan failed to figure out what he was mocking or what hidden intentions he could nurture behind this act of sincere curiosity. So he was... clueless about how to behave right now.

"Tell me more!", the young boy required then. "I have a few questions, concerning..."

And he went on about asking precisions on psychological theories he studied when he made the choice to try on this side of the fight. Batman let him down? Fine, he found out there was far more interesting on the other side, and read everything about the researches led by the scientists who are current members of the Rogues Gallery. He really got involved, not only for the role he wanted to play but also for himself. He _was_ genuinely interested.

Edward Nashton died in his birth town when he ran away. Edward stopped believing in Batman when he got disillusioned by his former hero. But Edward Nygma, who was born today with his first scheme, fully got involved into finding his place in this world.

And it started by replacing his former heroes with new areas of interest. Thus he went from looking up to Batman, Robin and Batgirl to being fascinated by Scarecrow, Poison Ivy and Mad Hatter, the three really intelligent rogues and the most feared criminals in costume.

And Eddie must admit, the change was disturbingly _pleasant_.

 

"Who's that?"

"Poison Ivy!"

Edward stood up from his seat at the cafeteria, and extended a hand in front of him.

"Dr Isley, I'm Edward Nygma, I must say it's a pleasure meeting you. Your work on microbiology and vegetal nervous system is the most intriguing concept I ever read about, and the theses you made out of connections and proper interactions shared with plants is a subject area I wish more people got involved into given the quality of your theories."

"..."

He looked at her forcing himself to seem proud, and more confident than he felt inside. It was part of his character. He _needed_ to become the guy bragging and playing showman. Although this was not completely invented -after all, he has always been aware of the disproportionate ego he brooded-, that was not an habit of his either. He may felt proud, and loved to attest how intellectually _ahead_ he was of the average, plus hated when people mocked his faculties or doubted he could succeed at something, but for the rest he was not... verbally a showman.

At the rare occasions when he proved his brilliance to others, he ended up being called a cheater and beaten to a pulp by his father or his bullies. So even if he was indeed a boastful, demonstrative little thing in the inside, on the _outside_ he had not much practice to act as such in front of others.

He had to work on that.

If the world is a stage, then _this_ is the role he chose for himself and therefore, needed to fulfill the best way.

And that started by not getting too offended when Isley sat on a chair facing Crane without shaking his hand, leaving him in his inviting position quite stupidly. He refrained himself from making a remark, and rather sat back as well, at Jonathan's left.

"Who's that?", Ivy repeated, eying her colleague.

Edward's cheeks flushed when he realized she had no intention of asking him directly.

Well that was getting more and more irritating.

"The new boy in town.", Jonathan answered in a detached, almost bored tone of voice. "He set up a trap, got arrested by the bats and ended here in the afternoon. He's my new cellmate."

Ivy arched a red eyebrow and looked back at him. Then she... judged him, looking him over with a piercing glance that made Edward's whole face turn red at the disturbing insistence she conveyed, and the way her dark green eyes seemed to never blink, while looking so deep inside him he _felt_ her presence as an alien intrusion in his head.

The hair raised on his neck and goosebump formed on his arms while a sensation of being drained of any strength took over his whole body under the look she gave him.

"I... can you..."

Why on Earth was his voice trembling now, and...

"Pamela dearest, would you please stop playing with that poor kid's mind?", Crane interrupted, distracting Ivy's attention, and when she finally took her eyes off of him Edward felt like a burden has just been taken off of his shoulders and that he could _breathe again_ after a too long stay underwater.

She huffed, then ate a few bites of the vile puree they had been served for dinner.

"He is weak.", she commented, informing Jon of the fact rather than talking to Edward.

She acted as if he wasn't there or as if he couldn't hear them, and the attitude was beginning to make his blood boil with anger in his veins.

"He won't survive here.", she went on with her analysis in a frigid tone. "I give him what, two days? Three? Not much more anyway. Don't get too attached to your new pet, Crane. He's a dead boy walking."

Edward put back his spoon on his plate, vexed and wanting to slam something. He was about to stand up and leave when Jonathan put a hand on his shoulder and firmly, with more strength than one could guess given his slim frame, the doctor blocked his movement and forced him to stay still on his chair.

"Don't leave.", he ordered sternly.

Then he turned a cold blue gaze to him, not bothering to act sympathetic.

"She is right.", he explained. "On your own, you are going to attract attention from the guards and they will express the urge to spend a moment with you you must try to avoid at all costs. But I and some of my influential colleagues, we have a sort of... power around here. It doesn't work every time, it depends of who is in charge of the asylum, since those change a lot during a year. But luckily for you, we are at one of those moments when the security is very low, _and_ your current roommate is a member of the, almost, respected inmates. If not respected, at least feared."

Ed blinked, trying to decipher what he meant, and Ivy smirked.

"Isn't the good doctor getting sentimental?", she taunted. "So attached already he will protect his new-found piece of tender meat?"

Pamela clearly enjoyed herself, and Edward snapped back at her:

"I am not a..."

Only to be interrupted by Jonathan's clinical voice:

"Attachment is for children. But in this case precisely, that one _is_ a child, and I may not give a damn about what happens to most of our cellmates, right now I feel something akin to a sense of responsibility, since if he simply stays near me I can avoid having him beaten, raped, and potentially murdered. As for what do I feel if any of those happen? I don't care, I offer him an option, not a safety guarantee."

He removed his spidery fingers from Edward's shoulder after this.

"Your call.", he stated, emotionless, now looking at him. "Stand up and try walking on your own in these corridors, and then you'd better be ready to face whatever is going to happen to you. Or do as I say, follow me and don't bother me too much. As long as you are not too annoying, you can stick around and this will save you from a few... inconveniences coming with this lovely place."

Edward stared at him, not knowing if he just insulted him profusely or if he... tried to be nice.

"Humpf.", Pamela scoffed. "You _are_ getting sentimental, Jon.", she repeated. "It's a mistake."

The professor just took a few bites of his equally disgusting dish, apparently not minding much the taste.

"There is a difference between 'sentimental' and 'interested'.", he countered. "That kid may won't survive long, in the meantime he is somewhat intelligent and he talked about my researches. Consequently, I much prefer that sort of company rather than being paired with Waylon or anyone else, they are all so boring."

"True.", Isley validated.

"I... I am here.", Edward said, not deciding if he should get mad at the two of them for talking about him like he wasn't there or if he should feel grateful they... talked about him.

"I know.", Jonathan attested, unmoved. "You'd rather be somewhere else?"

"I'd... probably not.", he chose to answer, then forced himself to ingest a bit of his dish.

He never had much to eat so he wasn't exactly picky when it came to food flavors. But the cooks in this establishment must have tried various recipes to produce something so foul, because he didn't see how it was technically possible to flunk that much a puree.

"Are you two friends?", he inquired later, and they both looked genuinely surprised, maybe a bit _shocked_ by the question.

Then they shared a look, and bursted out laughing.

That is to say, Crane let out an held back, almost inexistent sound, and Ivy a frightening grinding noise that froze Edward to the bones.

Okay, mental note: do _not_ make those two laugh, they look even more creepy when they are happy.

"Friends?!", Jonathan repeated as if it was the funniest joke he ever heard.

"In the end, I share your point Jon.", Isley as for her commented, a sparkle of amusement in her dark green iris. "This boy is perhaps funny, we should conserve him a little."

"Agreed."

"You want to... 'conserve' me?!", Edward quoted, baffled. "I am a person!", he protested then. "Not a... toxin you can put in your fridge!"

"You are sweet-looking, talking young meatbag.", Pamela corrected. "Who has nothing to do in an asylum, and is going to die screaming in the incoming _hours_ if you don't stay with us. So not only you owe us from now on _every_ minute of your life, but you'd better stay in our good graces. And that starts by not objecting to _anything_ of what we tell you. Understand?"

He wanted to be angry at her for her dismissive tone and the total lack of respect she treated him with. But she was... scary as hell too, so Ed knew arguing with her was not his best option for survival.

"I said, _understand?!_ ", she insisted sharply, making fear constrict his stomach, and he nodded with a shaky movement, before voicing in a pathetic, _scared_ little voice he instantly hated:

"Y... Yes doctor Isley."

Once again, that seemed to amuse them both dearly.

"He called me 'doctor Isley'.", Pam noted, enchanted. "So respectful, I love it! I wish more people were like that around here."

"Same.", Jonathan approved, and they both gave him a small nod in approval, as if they... accepted him from now on, in some way.

Edward forced himself to relax a little.

"So.", he relaunched, trying to sound casual. "What were you guys' most interesting toxin reaction so far, and what are the schemes you enjoyed performing the most? Even if they didn't fully succeed in the end, it's always so impressive to see all the damages you managed to cause to the city!"

They shared another look, next thing they seemed vaguely interested.

"You want us to talk about our success?", Isley asked, surprised, and he smiled back, feeling suddenly way too at ease in that strange company.

"Why not? I think it's better than to talk about the defeats."

"... True.", Crane agreed, and they shared another mildly satisfied glance.

"Did you see us at our beginnings?", Pamela asked then, surprising herself by showing enthusiasm over the suggestion. "Or were you... a baby at the time?"

Edward looked at her with disbelief.

"I am not _that_ young! But..."

He shook his head no, feeling almost sorry to announce:

"I am not born in Gotham. So when people in the rest of the State started to really talk about Batman and his rogues, you two were already in the field. But I made researches and all. I know you're around since almost ten years.", he told Pamela. "And that you are one of the very first, you are even considered _the_ second 'rogue' since you appeared shortly after the Joker. The others who were there at the time are not... as popular as you. You were there before Batman got his Robin. And you joined seven years ago.", he added for Crane. "During Robin's first year. You guys are like... the foundation of everything."

They arched an eyebrow, what was kinda funny since they both reacted of the same comical manner in synchronicity.

"Most persons say this role is Joker's.", Scarecrow dithered. "Even if Batman appeared before him, a lot of people consider him the... center of the game."

"I don't.", Ed countered sincerely. "He is just a psychopath, he is not interesting like the two of you."

No doubt, they were not used to be praised, and the sudden flattery had both a beneficial impact since they seemed glad, and a paradoxical result because then they also looked _suspicious_. As if they thought Edward was trying to obtain something from them by using compliments. The reason behind their reaction wasn't hard to deduce, so even less for Eddie, and it made him feel... closer to them.

They weren't used to be praised. They weren't used to see themselves being valued, or to have either their work or their persona recognized, while they were both intelligent and could have been famous, praised and loved in another life if people dared to acknowledge their cleverness instead of rejecting what they are for the sole reason their ideas are as _terrifying_ as they are brilliant. And even though the 'scary' part was not something he possessed, Edward could relate more than anyone to the feeling of being clever yet not wanted.

"Furthermore, the Joker kind of scares me.", he added too.

"But we don't?", Jonathan replied, cynical.

"Of course you do.", Eddie almost chuckled. "But it's not the same. I have a lot to learn from you, while him? Except laughing, what does he do exactly?"

The comment made them smile.

"Indeed, nothing.", Pamela agreed, far more relaxed. "That's a great description of him. And you?", she relaunched afterwhat, definitely getting more interested than she planned. "What do _you_ do?"

"I ask riddles.", he responded, the flush of pleasure linked to being asked about himself coloring in a bright pink his pale skin. "I set puzzles, like a web, and I watch Batman dance to try to solve them. Or let's say... I _will_ do that. For now I only set up one trap, so it's a work in progress. But I ask questions, and I test people to see if they can gather clues to solve my problem."

"Why calling yourself specifically the Riddler, then?", Jonathan inquired. "Why this spotlight on riddles rather than on... questions, clues or puzzles?"

Eddie smiled a little, as for himself.

"Because life is full of questions.", he answered delicately, before looking at them with a much more determined gaze as he ended strongly: "But I much prefer to think of them as riddles."

_____________

 

Edward's nervousness escalated to the point he thought he was going to faint before entering the bathroom.

He lectured himself to _stay still_ and  _not panic_.

Panicking could only make things worse.

"Nothing will happen to you.", Jonathan assured.

It was obvious he had been a psychiatrist, he knew how to convey sympathy in a manner that was reassuring enough. Although Edward didn't feel any less stressed.

"Is it really necessary?", he asked, disliking right away how unsure he sounded. "I mean, I can also..."

"The checks are not regular lately.", the professor reminded him. "Meaning if you don't want, I don't think a guard is going to come to our cell and drag you to the bathroom to make you take a shower. But the inmates are supposed to wash at least once a week; when the uniform isn't changed weekly the staff can take note of who showered and who's late in the schedule. We are not at a frequented hour.", he underlined in an encouraging tone. "It's better if you change now, before someone forces you to. The point is always to... keep attention from being directed on you."

Edward nodded with a shaky movement.

Of course Jon was right. And Ed was not stupid either, he knew when he got arrested that inmates don't have their personal attached bathroom in their cell. This was not specific of Arkham, but rather the most common thing in prison: showers are collectives. Jonathan and Pamela told him that sometimes men and women aren't even separated during shower times. This on the other hand, was contradictory with every kind of rules applying in any prison, but his two new-found saviors shrugged and said that "nothing is ever 'regulatory' at Arkham asylum". None of them complained about it though, because if the establishment was watched over like a common prison, it would be difficult, close to the impossible even, to left it as easily as they escaped from Arkham.

To what Edward asked why they weren't escaping for now, and they just smiled.

"Timing is a very important variable.", Jonathan explained at one moment. "And perhaps the _central_ data when escaping a place like this. If you mess your timing, you'll end up having to stay twice longer than if you waited for the appropriate moment. But worry not, child.", he added confidently. "The more time I spent at this place over seven years of visiting regularly was four months and a half, but it had been exceptional, we were in a particularly strict year during the one we were watched far more closely. The average calculation of time spent between these walls is usually between two weeks and a month, not much more."

It has been reassuring in a way. To see the asylum as a sort of gruyere full of holes offering various escape ways.

Even if right now, five days after his arrival here, Edward wished he would have escaped rather than having to face the hardship about to come: the showers.

To his credit, Jonathan was right about the fact it was a suitable hour, there was only one other inmate (whose face wasn't evoking anything to him), showering in a corner of the large space.

"Is there an open list of grievances, or a letter box where we can leave suggestions?", Ed asked, trying to chill out.

"No, why? You want to recommend someone changes the paintings on the walls?"

"Actually, I was thinking of shower curtains. Like, seriously?", he said, pointing to the tiled, not even clean, place. "I'm not even asking for a cabin or a personal space or whatever, but why couldn't we have at least _curtains_?! I mean... not everyone is an exhibitionist..."

Jonathan scoffed.

"Naturally.", he commented flatly. "But I'm afraid you'd better not hope for these, the only thing we cross fingers for when entering one of the bathrooms is for it not to be too dirty. We are lucky when they wash it more than once every three weeks."

Edward frowned immediately. Not that he wasn't used to dirty places, he grew up in a house continually smelling of alcohol where the living room was never to at very rare occasions swept, and he had experience as a homeless pre-teen living alone on Gotham's streets. So it was not the first time he confronted soiled locations.

But far from getting him used to it, or reaching the point he won't notice the filth anymore, the recoil he felt every time only increased. Not at all an useful reaction for the life he lived, and even less in the place he currently stayed at.

"You let your clothes over there.", Jon introduced in a neutral intonation. "And you take new ones in the attached room after you shower. Most of the time, the changes are freshly washed, or... acceptable enough."

"And when they're not?!"

Jonathan shrugged again, indifferent.

"When the supposedly 'clean' clothing smell worse than the ones you wore for approximatively a week, you just take your old clothes back and you'll try another day to gather garments."

Edward severely repressed his beginning of nausea. You knew what you signed up for, he firmly reminded himself. You collected every information on Arkham, and you can't act surprised to attest hygiene is not a priority in a prison reserved for the criminally insane.

But knowing this didn't mean it seemed any less acceptable.

"Let's just make it quick, okay?", Crane suggested in a sort of comforting attempt. "You wash, then we'll get changes and leave. It can be over in ten minutes, and besides for now we don't have many company."

He hesitated a bit, then added, visibly debating inside over if he should tell or remain quiet about it:

"Don't watch the floor too closely.", he decided to warn him. "As I said, the place isn't cleaned very often, so sometimes there are... residues of previous activities between inmates, or between inmates and guards. And you might not want to know the origin of these stains."

This time Ed made an effort not to turn over and walk away in a hurry. This place was making him sick. No, really... is there _anything_ about Arkham that is not disgusting?!

As if it wasn't bad enough, two more guys entered the place. They were talking together and didn't pay attention to the occupants of the bathroom. The space was large enough for that they found a location not too close to Jonathan and Edward, and they got rid of their clothes as if it was natural and there was nothing wrong with the situation.

Ed didn't know if he was either more sick or more ashamed.

"Edward.", Jonathan called, gently but firmly, and he looked up to the tall man. "It's better now, with only inmates and no one paying unwanted attention to you for the time being, than in two days when a guard might force you into showering. Now let's get done with this and not make it last too long, then you'll be free not to experience this for the following _week_."

He nodded again, his eyes already burning dangerously, but he forced the tears to stay put.

"Y-Yes...", he answered faintly. "It seems preferable now indeed."

But then he looked over the space, trying to spot where he will be the less exposed, to what Jon corrected upon seeing his searching gaze:

"You stay close to me.", he objected in a tone that suffered no protests. "You take the shower _next to mine_ , don't start thinking you'll get a bit of privacy by going on a corner. We are not alone, and even if we were, in case someone enters, I don't want you to be anywhere else than one feet from me. This is not an option or a proposition I make to you, it's an _order_."

Edward's cheeks flushed of embarrassment at the stern look he gave him, but he didn't argue. He knew why Jon acted like that, he didn't need to have voiced out loud the fact he risked to get raped if someone thought he was there alone.

"Okay...", he only said, the sensation of humiliation burning in his organism, but he was aware this stayed his best solution.

"... I won't watch if it helps any.", the doctor whispered then, in a clear attempt to offer comfort. "I'm just here to take a shower myself, and when you are done we get changes then we leave.", he reminded. "It's the best way."

"... It is.", Eddie approved.

And indeed, Jonathan turned out to be impressively... respectful, while nothing forced him to keep his word.

They took off their clothes, then placed them in the basket of dirty fabrics, before stepping under two adjoining head showers. And even if the situation was one of the most uncomfortable experiences Edward could think of, it appeared he had no real reason to be so stressed. The other guys in the place were not paying any attention to them, and Jonathan kept his back turned to him the all time, then stepped out of the water when Edward finished to wash off the soap on his body.

Eddie must admit, after days of wearing the same clothes, it felt good to be clean.

They could change their underwears, these clothes were given more regularly, so he wasn't wearing the same underwear for the previous five days, but the rest of his clothing and his skin started to be at a state far from what he appreciated.

Still not looking at him, Jonathan handed him over a towel and once they were both dry, he guided him to the laundry room, attached to the bathroom space.

"Good luck to find your size.", Jonathan joked, the small towel wrapped around his waist as he headed for a locker labeled 'Crane'.

"You have your own locker?", Ed noted, currently in the same outfit.

There were a few lockers on the walls with the names of inmates, and below these a high number of clean clothes crammed on top of each other on a table.

"One of the advantages of being a regular customer.", he confirmed. "When you start coming back to the asylum like I do, they end up giving you your own... attentions."

Then he pointed at the stack of clothes.

"I'm afraid it will be hard to find something your size, though."

He looked over, then pointed to another locker.

"I bet Jervis' clothing would fit you better. He's not thin like you are so they might be a bit loose, but you have approximatively the same height. I think you're a bit taller, I'm not sure. But then again, everyone's small to me, I always have to look down regardless. How old are you?"

Edward didn't hesitate to answer, much relaxed by Jonathan's unexpected humoristic comments.

"I'll turn sixteen next month, at the end of September."

"So you still have two, three years to gain more centimeters.", he said, amused. "Then you will indeed be taller than Jervis. That's actually funny."

"If you say so...", Eddie smiled a little, before finding out that indeed, Tetch's garments fitted him better than the other, way too big, uniforms on the table.

They turned their back to each other as they changed, and once again Edward felt... touched, in a way, by the delicacy the man showed.

Delicacy not only by trying to give him a bit of privacy, but also by... acting as if he didn't see. Like they weren't there, like the scars on Eddie's back, shoulders, arms, legs, torso... Everywhere really, like he _didn't see them_. As if they didn't exist, in place of making a remark or conveying something akin either to scorn, unwanted curiosity or pity. Instead he acted as if they weren't there at all.

That was... very kind of him. So Ed didn't ask about his either, even if he had to control a shocked reaction when he saw Jonathan's body.

Because if Edward has scars, and not pretty or discreet ones, Jonathan... _is_ a scar. No inch of skin was spared, _every_ part of his scrawny, angular and tall body was marbled with marks of various lengths, widths and shapes; most of them, almost _all of them_ were obviously very old, they were _childhood_ memories. He had a few on his face, his nose was crooked in a way that indicated it had been broken multiple times and not always put back in place before healing, plus an old scar on his chin and another on his right cheek close to the ear, along with one on his left temple, descending to his cheekbone in the -quite unique- shape of an X. And he had a few visible ones on his neck too. These were the scars Ed saw already, because they leaked out of his clothes, along with a number of thin ones on his hands, more likely coming from accidental cuts.

So it was logical he had other scars as well, but... that many?! It felt so... wrong...

Edward didn't say anything about it, though, respectful of Jon's own silence about the marks on his body. He always thought he had many scars, he could never wear anything else than long sleeves and long pants, along with buttoned up shirts to hide them, and he kept his haircut a certain way on purpose, his orange hair reaching and stopping just past the top of his shoulders to hide the scars on the back of his neck the best he could.

But with Jonathan Crane, he really found a master in the scar field.

"Is everything alright?", the doctor asked, in a surprisingly soft manner, and Eddie nodded, now dressed in the clean clothing.

"It feels kinda good.", he even admitted. "To be... clean, even in this place. I don't like being dirty, it always makes my body feel alien to myself when I spend too much time without the minimum of corporal hygiene."

It was clear Jon didn't share the opinion and not minded much being clean or dirty, but he didn't object.

"Then we're done here.", he simply concluded, and they exited the laundry room, taking the few steps in the showers to reach the entry by where they arrived.

"Hey Crane!", one of the two guys who entered after them called just when they were about to finally leave; wearing... pretty much nothing at all. "I like your puppet, it looks really sweet. Care to let me try it some day, or is it private property?"

The two men laughed as if a good joke had just been pronounced, and Edward felt the absolute _rage_ taking over his protector. Jonathan put a spidery hand on his shoulder, and Eddie almost recoiled at the sudden physical contact, because of the panic the guy's input provoked in him.

"This is mine.", Scarecrow declared in a low, threatening tone that gave Edward the chills and left the two men quite unsure of what to respond. "Mine, and mine alone.", he pursued, his voice more and more menacing and frightening as his grip on Edward's shoulder reinforced. "Spread the word, Hansen. If you look at him a way I don't like, you'll regret it. If you talk bad to him, I'll make you pay. If you threat, touch or try by _any_ mean to intimidate or use him, I'll make your worst nightmares come true in front of your eyes and make you die in the worst, most violent and humiliating way where you'll scream, cry and wet yourself before begging me to stop. And when you'll beg enough, when you'll be of no use anymore and you won't ever be able to recover neither physcially nor psychologically, then maybe, just maybe, I might kill you to end your sufferings. If I'm in a good mood, that is."

To what he turned around, and holding Edward in a very possessive, demonstrative manner, dragged him along with him.

"Spread the word!", he repeated just before exiting the bathroom. "The warning applies the same for everyone!"

Then they left the room, where two frightened inmates regretted dearly one of them dared to talk to the Scarecrow.

 

They were back in their cell, later in the night, and Edward still hadn't pronounced a word.

Usually, Jonathan didn't give a damn about his cellmate. Sometimes he had the cell for himself, sometimes he had to share. But every time, whoever was the man sitting on the other berth, he was no more than an object in his surroundings. Except of course the few occasions when Jervis and him were paired together, those were always pleasant times for both of them. But Jon didn't care about any of his other cellmates.

And Pamela had been paired with him only once, years ago. For the rest, even if the respect for the rules over separation between men and women wasn't very followed in this prison, Pam almost always had a cell for herself. Jon much preferred when the said cell was in the same corridor as his, because then they can talk together even if they were not in the same space; but his colleague's current location was on the floor above his, so they had to split at curfew.

He sort of enjoyed the new boy's company, though. If he didn't, he won't have played protector with him during the past days, after all. Even if the kid talked a bit too much for his liking, he was good conversation and was very interested by every aspect of Jon's researches, so even if he was not used to be that solicited when in his cell, it was a... refreshing experience.

Right now however, even if he could have benefited of a bit of silence at night, he knew something wasn't right with Nygma _shutting up_.

"Edward?", he called gently, later in the night, and the boy nearly jumped at the simple sound.

Not usual indeed.

"I am a psychiatrist.", he offered, sitting on his bunk and looking at the other space of the small room. "Tell me why you are suddenly afraid of me while you were not previously, and I'll demonstrate to you why you are wrong."

Edward sat as well, the thin blanket around his knees.

Jonathan couldn't see precisely in the darkness, although nothing was ever completely black in the cells because of the windows with no curtains in the corridors, what let in the raw light of the lampposts spread outside the asylum to 'watch' over. Not that it kept anyone from escaping, neither at day nor at night.

"What you... what you said to that guy, Hansen.", he began, and even though he was doing a good job at hiding it, Jonathan had no difficulties understanding at the weak tone of his voice he had been crying silently. "What were you trying to... what is the..."

"I had to keep him from watching you too closely or thinking he can use you.", Jonathan stated, because being delicate or lying to preserve a young mind had never been his way to operate.

Besides he was practically certain the boy's whole life was built around various kind of violent abuse of many kinds, this was so obvious by just _watching_ him. So he went on straightforwardly:

"You are not the first objectively attractive person to enter the asylum, but you are by far the youngest. Not to repeat things Pamela and I told you already, but you look... vulnerable. Breakable. Broken already, somehow. And so very _young_ , in addition of being a pretty face. No one touched you yet, but that's just because you are in my cell, and the only reason guards didn't try something with you for the moment is because they are overworked, much more than the usual. It will take months for the asylum to fully recover from Joker's last attack, so for now the staff can't allow themselves some of the... night activities they regularly exercise when they are numerous enough to cover for the others and deny any assault has been committed on inmates."

Edward stayed quiet a moment after this.

"Have you...", he asked then, unsure. "Have you already been..."

"I am a feared person here.", Jonathan cut, a bit too sharply for it not to be associated with painful memories. "But as for am I immune to everything a perverted mind can think of to abuse of other people, especially in a place like this? I wish I was. But I'm a man. Not a god."

A shiver ran down Edward's spine.

"I'm sorry...", he tried, contradictory feelings taking over in his brain.

"I don't want to hear these words ever again.", Jonathan scolded him in a severe voice. "If you apologize here, to anyone, it will be a confirmation of you being weak, and an  _easy_ target. Don't apologize, don't thank, don't show concern and dry those tears. Don't let anyone see you for weaker than you are, in your case it can only make things even worse."

"... I... alright..."

Ed felt unexpectedly more... at ease.

"But... Can I ask... if... I mean..."

"You can sleep.", Jon answered, only half getting what he had in mind. "I won't do anything to you. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever. I don't abuse children. And I know I have quite a reputation in Gotham of being... a monster, but I have _standards_. Underage rape is about the worst thing I can think of, and something I only feel disgust and rage over. So don't insult me, child. I only played, and I will do it again if needed, pretending you are my doll if it's the only thing that can avoid a fat pig to think he can use you. I will play, but it's a _role_. Now try to get some sleep. And you are right to be a bit scared of me, this what I inspire to everyone after all. But don't fear I will abuse of you. I won't, ever, practice this kind of power play on anyone, so even less on a minor."

Edward slowly curled up back on his bunk.

"You said I shouldn't 'thank' people.", he said later, now completely reassured and... knowing, deep down, Jonathan was saying the truth. "But I want to thank you. For... hu... kind of watching over me. Nothing forces you to 'play' as you say. So... thanks for that."

Jonathan lied back on his berth, on his back and looking at the dirty ceiling.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear.", he commented after a long silence. "And I may act with human decency, don't start thinking of me as a good Samaritan, child. I am not, and I never want to become one. So... there are lines I don't cross, but it doesn't mean I care about you or that I suddenly have a soul. Don't think that, you'll be mistaken and you'll end up disappointed. Just stay next to me to survive, but don't believe I feel either bound or attached to you by any means."

But instead of being disillusioned, this just made Edward chuckle.

Jonathan turned his head on his right toward him, surprised.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Because...", Eddie answered, smiling broadly. "This sounded almost like a compliment!"

And Jon was glad it was dark enough not to clearly see their faces.

Because otherwise, Edward would have seen him smile.

_______________

 

"What is he doing here?!", Ivy spat looking down at Edward, and he felt his cheeks burning red at the look of pure _disgust_ she addressed him.

"Let's not loose time.", Jonathan cut short her protests. "We have far better things to do than to quarrel right now."

She let out a frustrated hiss reminiscient of a cat's when angry at someone, but didn't add another word.

Edward's heart was pounding so loudly in his chest he feared someone might hear it. But even though he was scared... _terrified_ to be honest, a real sense of _urgency_ , accompanied with a legitimate _excitement_ took over him. To the point his strong, pulsing heart beat proved at the same time of a solid apprehension linked to the terror of being caught, and a real _entertainment_ at the prospect of achieving their goal.

He was escaping from Arkham asylum with the Scarecrow and Poison Ivy. He was _escaping Arkham asylum with the Scarecrow and Poison Ivy!_ And despite his bright intellect and love for complex, original and powerful phrasings coming from his mastery of the language, the only judgement Eddie could think of right now to qualify the current action was... it's so freaking awesome.

He may tried to convince everyone he was an adult -with no success on that end-, being a kid he _had_ the right to feel a bit enthusiastic in such a situation.

Jonathan and Pamela obviously knew the establishment like the back of their hand, and even if Edward logged in his head everything he saw over the past week and a half spent at the asylum, he didn't see much of it. So even if he managed to escape on his own, he would get lost in the corridors and won't have been able to find his way back to exit the place. And even if, by miracle, he managed to go out of the buildings and reach the parkings or even the countryside circling the prison, he would have been caught by the security rounds. Furthermore... he wasn't going to brag about it, but he _couldn't_ steal a car either. He knew how to start an engine, but even if theorically speaking he _knew_ the components of a car and what each part served for, he didn't exactly... know how to use that knowledge, since he never drove any kind of vehicle yet.

Today he had no need to worry about not knowing how to drive though, because following Jonathan and Pamela's lead, he rather found himself playing secret agent across the corridors.

"Over there."

Those were the first words pronounced, by Jonathan, after the two older rogues' dispute at the beginning of their escape. They were now at a parking, and needed to be careful reaching the vehicle they were looking for, because even though the guards there weren't numerous, they risked to drag too much attention on them if someone noticed a movement.

Edward must say, he lived the scene as both an active member and a very involved spectator. The feeling was closer to a watcher whose heart beats fast and who is so deep into a story they'd forget to breath when they live the sensations as vividly as the character on screen or in pages. He felt closer to this position than properly 'in', just feeling everything more strongly because he was in the middle of the action. 'In the middle' but not in control, since he was following instead of leading, discovering the field while not knowing its every nook and cranny by heart. He didn't feel any less thrilled.

The truck's engine roared after they closed the doors, the three of them sitting on the front.

"Stay still.", Crane ordered while Isley drove.

Ed feared how passing the gates will go, but they didn't leave by the main entry. Apparently there were a lot of access to the place itself, for deliveries. Eddie couldn't help but think it was a bit _silly_ to have multiple spots by where it was possible to reach and leave Arkham asylum, while if they had only _one_ gate to watch, it would be easier to control the comings and goings in the place.

Not that he was complaining over that fact. But as they left with a minimum of complications, Edward began to understand why the rogues escaped that fast and were back at doing schemes between a week and a month after Batman sent them to prison. He always thought they were very skilled and paid everybody in the place, -and he had no doubt sometimes they gained their freedom that way-, but apparently it was far from being too hard to escape the asylum on your own.

Maybe it was part of the reason why they kept doing that, who knows? He read, watched and found everything about the entire Rogues Gallery, and from what he deduced, at least for the _intelligent ones_ , they could be someone else entirely. Jonathan Crane could go back to teaching or being a scientist in advanced chemistry, he was more than skilled to work in everything related to his research areas and he could be a great help for science's progress. Same goes for Pamela Isley, her knowledge and mastery of the plant realm could ensure her a place if she chose to go back in any advanced research program, like what she worked at before turning rouge. And Jervis Tetch, although mentally ill contrary to the previous two, was an excellent neurobiologist, Ed read his thesis and watched some of the conferences he led about his discoveries on brain power and how to control some areas and reactions of the brain, a subject research he shared with Jon, those congress were breathtaking.

Jonathan Crane, Pamela Isley, and Jervis Tetch.

The Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, and the Mad Hatter.

Those were the three rogues Edward truly wanted to meet. He had not much interest in meeting Croc, Bane, Penguin, Scarface or another of the non-scientists, the 'non-intelligents' ones as he called them mentally. It was different for Catwoman. She may was not a scientist, he admired her and knew he will always feel that way, by respect for her philosophy, how she fought for no one but herself. However it wasn't enough for him to want to... reach out to her. If they saw each other then fine, he'd like that very much; but in the meantime he won't _hope_ for a meeting.

While he definitely hoped he'll meet Scarecrow, Poison Ivy and Mad Hatter, because they were both the most interesting, mysterious and attractive (intellectually speaking of course) members of the Gallery.

Maybe it was partly why he released his attack as the Riddler at a moment when he knew two of them were both in Arkham, while the other main figures were out of the asylum. He saw Croc and a few other second-rate known faces, but since Crane and Isley didn't talk to them, and because even though it was thrilling to see them in real too, he didn't approach any other inmate.

In fact, everything was very... fine. Great, even.

Eddie smiled to himself. Such an unpredictable situation, being practically on Scarecrow's knees because the truck's front bench has only two seats, with Poison Ivy driving them to reach the city. He escaped with _them_ from _Arkham asylum_. Does that mean he was... one of them now? He set up a trap for Batman and Robin, got stopped and arrested by them, has been sent to Arkham, then escaped with two of the most emblematic rogues, who were by the way his two favorites. All of this, although very real and with an action still being part of the _present_ seemed kinda... special.

But lovely, in a way.

Such a brilliant idea he had, when he dressed with that skintight leotard and sent an invitation for Batman and Robin to play a game with him.

________

 

"Why have you brought him with us?!"

"And what else was I supposed to do?!", Jonathan snapped back at her. "If I left him behind, he would have died."

"None of our _business_!", Pamela hissed, her anger not cooling off a bit. "We are not _babysitters_ , for the Devil's sake!"

She took a breath, trying to calm down, but the wrath she felt was still very visible on her body language when she accused again:

"I can't believe such a pathetic weakness would come from  _you!_ So what happened, hu? You had a good time with him in your cell and you were sad to abandon your new test subject? Or maybe you... what, 'like' him?"

"Now Pamela, please don't insult me."

They stared defiantly at each other.

They may never called one another 'friends', the two of them plus Jervis were close enough to team-up very often, escape together when they were in Arkham, even share their hideouts from time to time. What didn't mean they agreed on everything. Far from it even, like right now about _why the hell_ was Nygma still with them.

After they left the truck, changed clothing and performed an all 'time to disappear' session into the Gotham night, they were currently in an old apartment they used as hideout not long ago and that hadn't been discovered. Like in every places they used, they left tin cans, garments, rolls of dollars and medical supplies in the place, what served them well whenever they were freshly out of Arkham and needed somewhere to land before starting to find a more appropriate place in order to plan their new action.

And if Pam didn't say another word against the teenager's presence with them during the truck ride, she had been _very disappointed_ in Jon when they didn't part ways after they left the car. She expected him to be reasonable and reach the hideout with her after they left the boy in the city to go take care of himself _by himself_. But no! Scarecrow decided to play _sentimental_ or whatever, and he told the child to follow them to a safe place.

So now here they were, the kid was showering, because apparently he had the right not only to squat in their place and take more of their time, but also to use their bathroom and see himself handed clean clothes. While he was in the bathroom of the one-bedroom sized flat, Jon and her finally put on the table the subject in the quite small living room.

During the escape, even if she made remarks on her opinion about dragging the child along with them, they didn't properly argue over it because they were focused on leaving and too into the action.

Now however, Crane was required to work hard to _justify_ himself to her.

"You are well aware of what they were going to do to him the moment he won't be on my hip anymore.", Jonathan sighed, sitting on the two-seater couch while Ivy kept glaring at him.

"So?", she retorted, unmoved. "What is it, you discovered he is your long-lost son or a secret relative of some sort, so you feel like you must protect him?!"

Jonathan shook his head, unamused.

"Of course not.", he responded dryly. "Nothing of that kind."

He forced himself to relax a little, and to unclench his jaw.

"I am a teacher.", he eventually said.

" _Was_ a teacher.", Ivy corrected right away, and he glared at her.

"You got what I meant, don't play stupid, Isley."

"Call me 'stupid' one more time, and you can be certain this will be the last thing you'll ever do in this life!", she hissed with much more aggressiveness than before, and for a long moment they just looked at each other, as to _dare_ the other to push the provocation forward.

"... My bad.", Jonathan conceded later, although unwilling to admit he was wrong.

Still he was conscious he was... responsible of his esteemed colleague's reaction, he knew how she was going to take the presence of the boy by their side.

"He didn't promise me anything. Or... has any link with me other than the fact he is not uninteresting to talk to. But you had the occasion to attest of that already. Tell me, Pammy.", he added, using his psychiatrist persona as he often did whenever he wanted someone to arrive to the right conclusion, the one he _wanted them_ to think.

Ivy was the hardest mind to reach he ever met, with the strongest temper and the most unbreakable will. He was convinced Kyle must be hard to pierce as well, but over the years he only spoke to her a few times when they were together at Arkham, for the rest they were way too different and not interested by discovering more about each other.

So on his list, Ivy first was the most shielded, defended and cold as a stone heart, with a mental defense so perfect it almost _hurt_. The second place was for Batman, albeit far behind Pamela.

"When have you met someone who can keep up with you and manage to interest you by talking about your research subjects?", he ended accordingly.

Pam didn't buy it.

"Don't psychoanalysis me, Jon.", she warned severely. "You know it's only going to make me angry."

But then she sighed, because for as annoying as the situation was, Jonathan was _right_.

She sat on the blue couch next to him, feeling tired suddenly. The three weeks at Arkham with minimum sleep and only disgusting food to eat helped, so like every time after they escaped, the first step to take once in a safe place was not to plan a revenge but to _recover_.

"Jervis and you.", she admitted consequently. "You are the only persons since I started this... business, with whom I have interesting conversations. And in the life of before... Well it's precisely because _no one_ could keep up, in any ways, that we all chose to walk away from our previous routines."

They shared a glance of mutual understanding. Jervis' case was different than theirs, since his leitmotiv was linked to love and vengence on one person, while theirs was vengence on the _world_ for letting them down, coupled with their will to pursue their researches and achieve their goals despite having been told they couldn't cross a certain number of lines without being seen as criminals rather than clever, pioneering scientists.

But that just corresponds to the way History is written. Every great discovery or major changes begins with a person making theories about it, who is called crazy by his peers and is more or less feared, repressed, judged or just ignored. Until the day people realize that not only they were right, but that without their help, progress could never have been built in the area.

Jonathan and Pamela sincerely believed they belonged to that kind of persons.

The misunderstood genuises who have a goal, more or less right, and methods quite... radical, to fulfill it and succeed in their enterprise.

From what Ivy knew, because it was both evident and easy to figure out, Edward Nygma, although without a doubt far less dangerous than them, was like the two of them on that point. Convinced he was doing the right thing because life and exterior factors ended up making him believe there was no other way for him. Doing the right thing for him by using the wrong ways. That was something they both could relate to more than anyone, the reason why Jonathan couldn't bring himself to abandon the kid to his fate was more than obvious.

And well... there was always the child abuse field, in the one both her and Jon had a solid experience and couldn't get mistaken whenever they crossed paths with a kid who lived a childhood similar to theirs. No doubt about that either, this boy had the ground in common with them.

"What part convinced you the most?", she asked afterwards, more willing to concede her colleague has been right to help the little ginger. "The 'I am a teacher, I must keep that kid as a student', 'The psychiatrist in me is interested by studying his mind more in detail', 'Scarecrow finds a new lovely test subject' or just an... unexpected, new-found fatherly affection nobody would have bet you were capable of feeling?"

She grinned as he huffed.

"Probably a mix of everything.", he recognized. "And the fact I think it would be... a shame, to waste a potential like his by getting killed in Arkham the night after we would have escaped and won't be there anymore to ensure his safety."

She arched a red eyebrow.

"His 'safety'? In _Arkham_?! And now he escaped, he officially became 'wanted', even if I doubt anyone knows about him yet, and he could simply disappear without ever getting in troubles. So talk to me of scientific interest, soft spot for broken things, or just curiosity to see what he will do now, but not 'safety', Jon. We never guaranteed anything, the only reason he didn't get beaten and raped is because he stayed in Arkham less than two weeks and the staff is both reduced and overworked since last months. If he appeared when... I don't know, at the time Bolton was in charge for example? Then being either your cellmate, mine or _Joker's_ won't have changed a thing to the fact he won't have passed his first night without the hardest beating and assault of his life."

Jonathan had no other choice but to agree.

"True. But he chose a good moment to step on stage, escaping from Arkham has never been easier than this year and guards and doctors are too overworked to abuse of their power every night."

He lowered his gaze.

"What doesn't mean he would have survived long without you and me."

"So we designed him, right?", she remarked, because even if she knew what they were doing when they started talking to him, Jon and her never properly evoked the problem. "We showed the inmates and the staff he is our toy, and now everyone expects us either to break him or to turn him into... something else. If he puts on his Riddler costume again, everyone is going to think we trained him at some point."

"... This is highly probable indeed."

No need to develop further, they knew what that meant.

The Joker was feared more than anyone. Some of their other colleagues had people's respect as well. But the two of them belonged to the category of the freaks hated and feared, though slightly less than Joker. According to popular beliefs, Scarecrow and Poison Ivy were not completely humans. Even some of the _doctors_ were convinced they are demons or devils in disguise. All of this was, naturally, nothing more than childish superstitions, they were used to it by now, they heard it enough in many persons' mouth.

But now, telling everyone 'look over there, we adopted a kid!' meant influencing the opinion about said kid, either because people who noticed thought they were going to eat him alive, torture him or whatever they were convinced entertained them; or because he will receive... the other share. The _hatred_.

Nygma could never be scary, not even a little, the two of them were coaxed of it. But he could inherit of the repulsion Scarecrow and Poison Ivy provoked in the minds, this... sort of racism very neat in their case because they were associated with evil creatures who were not human beings. That this was untrue and silly didn't stop most people from thinking that and hate them for being so-called 'creatures', while a simple analysis of their blood would confirm to anyone they _are_ humans. Their appearance should be enough, since objectively they are just a tall, skinny brown-haired, blue-eyed man who wears glasses and a redheaded, green-eyed woman who seems to be continually angry at everyone. But nothing more on the outside.

The only transformations in their genetics came from experimentations they made on themselves, turning Isley into immune to poisons, and the fear toxin impacted Crane's DNA as well. Slowly but surely, the product was transforming him at a neurobiological level, while Pam's internal changes were drastic and appeared from the beginning of her career as Poison Ivy. Although nothing showed up on their, for the rest, perfectly human body.

Perhaps the term 'mutants' would suit them better, even if there again it wasn't completely true since they were born humans and the transformations in their DNA has been provoked by chemicals and experiments. But they were by no means 'devils' or 'demons' or whatever of that kind.

As for the other rogues, those were psychopaths at a more of less pronounced level, sociopaths and a few other qualifications the doctors found for them. But they were _humans_ , no one ever called Mad Hatter an alien or Catwoman a fury. This type of beliefs only belonged to Scarecrow and Poison Ivy, they were... more 'the freaks' than the others on that end. Croc belonged to that type too, once they thought of it. And of course, all of that was 'Joker excepted' as ever, because Joker is litteraly the _only one of his kind_ , luckily for the world. Trying to put a label on him or make him fit into a category, even a very extravagant one, is pointless and irrelevant.

And there, the two adults showed they chose a human child and decided to protect him in some way, by keeping him on their side and now escaping with him. So they designated a scapegoat, because contrary to them Riddler was not scary, he didn't inspire the fear that kept most people away from them. While he will suffer from the rage and disgust they also provoked but what couldn't be fully expressed directly to them because people were afraid of them. And people won't be of this child, they'll only remember that hurting _him_ is like hurting _them_. As a result, it meant he was going to have a hardest time than if they didn't meet if he ever goes back to Arkham at a moment when they won't be there to protect him.

They were well aware of that, it was no speculation but an obvious _veracity_.

However they... couldn't quite tell _why_ this was bothering them. The kid would have died if they left him behind anyway, so they acted the best way, didn't they? Yet knowing people won't forget he was their little doll before being a person on his own and knowing he was going to suffer, one way, another or many, because of that, still... annoyed them a tiny bit.

"I can survive on my own.", the main subject of their reflexions intervened while they were lost in thoughts, exiting the bathroom and dressed in clothes way too big for him that made him look even younger. "... I heard what you said.", he added, mildly sheepish. "You really think I am what... dead already? That you are talking to an abandoned newborn deer who has zero chance to survive in the outside world?!"

They shared a look, then eyed him back and answered at the same time, matter-of-factly as if it was evident:

"Yes."

Edward should have felt angry, insulted by their exchange, but to be honest it _scared_ him rather than flustered him. Was that truly the impression he gave to people? Was that why he got beaten, used and abused so often so easily? Because everyone just saw a broken mirror that it was so easy to shatter further, or a dying corpse it won't hurt much to kick some more just to hear it scream but what is already damned either ways?

It was so unfair!

People had no right to see him like that! He was _so much more_ than that! He was... was... what was he exactly? He wasn't even sure.

"... I have nothing else.", Edward told them quietly, and he wished his voice didn't come out so... weak, there again. "I have no ties, no grades, no job, no real civil identity either. No one who knows me, nowhere to go. I have just... this need to do something, to try to become... somebody. I want to play with the big boys, and I don't care if you believe I'm not ready for this or that I am just not... capable enough."

From broken, his tone grew more steady, resolute, and he was proud of himself when he pursued strongly:

"I played the game. I set a trap for the Bat and I proved I can be his enemy. This is the test, right? Anyone who causes Batman troubles and gets arrested by him and his acolytes gets to enter the Gallery! As long as you are not a mobster but a freak in costume, you have your chance! And for the rest it's just a matter of time. You can't judge me for not making a great impression while I performed only _one_ plan, when both of you are around for almost a _decade!_ So... I don't care what you think of me, really."

He looked at them with a smug expression, the one he liked to execute more and more, to the point it rapidly became an habit, and concluded:

"What I know, is that I am gonna show you I deserve my spot on the main Rogues Gallery just like you."

Jonathan and Pamela looked quite... confused, after his declaration. Then Jon spoke, in a calm intonation:

"Is this how you see life? As a... game in the one you must gain a reputation? Like a role you play in order to win a... sort of prize?"

They seemed genuinely interested by the answer. For sure, this was not their definition of existence.

"I...", Eddie answered, a bit cooled off by the curious reaction. "I have to prove something.", he elected to confess.

"To others?", Pamela interrogated. "Or to yourself?"

"... Both."

He addressed them a small smile after this. They may were a bit harsh with him, he knew they saved him by keeping him with them and allowing him to escape in their company. So he couldn't be mad over the fact they were not talking respectfully to him.

Moreover, they were people who could relate with many aspects of his life and they obviously were some of the rare persons on this planet able to almost keep up with him. Ones of the very few to _interest_ him, too.

"Can I stay here tonight?", he asked later, because he was not certain this was assured, yet hoped he won't have to deal with the streets on his own right now.

He wanted to rest, and even though he couldn't tell precisely what it was due to, the presence of the two adults in the room had a certain power to... appease him. As weird and unexpected as it seems.

"Yes you can.", Pamela was the one to respond in a resigned tone, as if she ended up convincing herself there was no other way.

Then she pointed to the second door of the flat next to the bathroom's, leading to the bedroom.

"Nevertheless.", she stated, vaguely amused. "I reserve the bed. Since Jon decided to play caretaker, he's the one who takes the couch tonight and you guys deal together with who gets the pillows and who sleeps on the floor, I want the bedroom for myself."

"That's fair.", Jonathan agreed, and Edward approved as well immediately, enchanted things still looked up for him.

"Thank you guys!", he said happily.

He knew he should be scared.

He was not naive, and he learned enough about the rogues from all the researches he made. Crane and Isley, along with Tetch, use human test subjects to perfect their products and machines in Mad Hatter's case. They are also reputed to make victims during their schemes. Not always dead bodies, but at least injuried and traumatized persons every time, the only changeable variable was the number of victims and the extend of the damages.

They were dangerous, violent, believed to have no conscience and to enjoy torturing people to test their toxins. Some even said they _ate_ people along with torturing them, and even if Ed knew the rumor spread about them being satanists and/or demons was a puerile vision of persons terrified by the unknown, he heard some... popular opinions on the streets, about who are Poison Ivy and Scarecrow.

So Edward couldn't justify why he spent a very pleasant evening with them in the hideout, then slept on both ears later in the night, nested in a blanket and a pillow under his cheek, curled up like a little orange cat sleeping next to Jonathan whose long thin legs extend beyond the edge of the sofa.

______________

 

"You had a child together?!"

Pam refrained a laugh at Jonathan's frustrated expression coming in response to this question.

"No, Jervis.", he answered sternly. "We didn't... have a child together. Besides that one is a teen, so even physically speaking, in addition of being idiotic, this couldn't be _possible_."

"Technically, it could.", Ivy decided to be not helpful at all. "After all, Jonny, we _are_ old enough to be his mom and dad, it simply implies we had him at a young age... at this distant era when we were teenagers or young adults..."

"Pam, have mercy on me.", he required, mildly desperate. "It's already upsetting enough to get asked when we adopted a kid, so it's even worse if you play along."

That made her laugh, of this properly _frightening_ sound.

"So is he your child or not?"

This time they both snapped back at him and responded a clear, categoric "No."

"I am here, you can _talk to me directly!_ ", Edward protested once again.

He felt like he repeated it a great deal of times over the previous weeks. Despite his pleas, the adults still acted like he couldn't hear them, as if he wasn't able to respond or if he just wasn't there at all. No matter how much it pissed him off.

So of course, his meeting with the Mad Hatter went not any differently.

But for as annoying as this habit of them was, for the rest everything seemed... just fine.

The meeting with some of the other colleagues, and... the rest. What came _next_.

Working with Scarecrow, Poison Ivy and Mad Hatter. Sometimes the three of them, sometimes separately. Sometimes just for science, sometimes with the purpose to start a scheme.

Jonathan stayed by his side... Or _he_ stayed by _Jonathan's side_ , it certainly worked that way in reality, and they often met Pamela and Jervis for schemes. The three adults may didn't call each other 'friends', that was definitely the bond they seemed to share, and how anyone who saw them interact would call them. And Edward found himself... sticking around. Being in the middle of a life the three of them started years ago, in the one he freshly stepped inside.

He was a newcomer yet he quickly made up for his lateness.

He learned a lot with them, about many subject areas but also, probably the most important one, about the bats and the asylum. Eddie never told them he was about 85% sure Batman is Bruce Wayne, and that he deduced it because of his sidekick and Batgirl. For the rest, he still had suspicions about Harvey Dent, close friend of Wayne's by the way, and who matched with the physical aspect of the vigilante as well as with the powerful determination to fight crime. And he had a few other names on his list concerning stricly Batman, but the acolytes? Once he recognised moves from Robin that were similar to acrobats' performances in circus and made the link with the fact James Gordon, Batman's closest ally, has a daughter who is the same height, same hair color and same eye color as Batgirl, he started to follow the lead.

And indeed, he quickly found out Barbara Gordon and Dick Grayson are close friends in the every day life, and that Dick Grayson, who grew up in a circus in a family of acrobats, is Bruce Wayne's ward. Dick's body and his past as an acrobat matched with Robin, as for Wayne... Not only he fitted Batman physically, but _being_ Batman implied having lots of money at disposal, given the material he used.

So well... other names may floated in his head about the Bat, but he was like, 96% sure about the sidekicks' identities, and it matched very well with Bruce Wayne being the Bat. Even if Harvey Dent's name still popped up when he seriously envisaged Bruce Wayne as Batman. It was one or the other, but if Dent was Batman then there was a strong possibility for that Wayne was involved as well. The billionaire sounded painfully dumb every time Edward heard him talk on TV when he watched the news in the city's bars. But that could also be part of his cover. If not, if he was _really_ this tame and boring playboy, then perhaps he provided Batman's armor and all the equipment to his friend Dent, and the lawyer was the one to wear the cape and cowl, while Wayne was only... the money stock, and participated in some way to the fight by paying for the material, but without wearing the mask.

Edward seriously envisaged this possibility, and truth be told he was not sure which one he preferred about Batman's civilian visage.

But he never told his new-found acolytes, or anyone, even the _beginning_ of his hypotheses. The secret was his, he didn't want to share it. And even when he'll be sure of the answer, when he'll finally figure out the riddle, he knew he won't tell.

It was a secret between the bats and him. The rogues couldn't know about it.

But without that? Everything else was _perfect_.

Yes, perfect. He sincerely used the word, without irony or hasty judgment.

Science, interacting almost as friends with Jonathan, Pamela and Jervis, stealing money, designing schemes, setting up traps, thinking of riddles and puzzles, making the bats dance and trapping them into more and more elaborated plans, getting arrested, surviving in the asylum a week or two, escaping, hiding, starting everything again. And again. And again. And again...

If felt like his life became entirely oriented around this. With a few divergences, a few new people he met, a few other interactions he had. But for the rest... the mechanism was in working order, he grew closer to his unexpected science bros and teamed-up with them during schemes or sticked around in the private area here and there. They didn't live all the time together, and he was not with Jonathan twenty-four hours a day anymore. He progressively found his own hideouts, he planned his own traps, he... made his own life.

 _And_ he joined Jonathan almost daily, Pamela and Jervis nearly as much, to talk science, share their opinions, debate about their next plans or just... enjoy each other's company.

He grew up rapidly over the months.

Gained in confidence, in precision, in... everything. He made sure no one could doubt he had his place in Batman's Rogues Gallery. And he was enjoying himself proving his worth, more than he thought he would, _much more_ than he could have guessed. He was progressing, people started to know his name and to recognize him as one of the faces they had to respect. He was getting better, smarter, stronger. Not only was he playing with the big boys now, but he was also  _becoming_ one of them.

Edward never felt more alive.

 


End file.
